Haiku Pop #5

beetle skin
rolling in the grass--
a sunrise

Haiku Pop #4

a storm cloud
collides with the sun--
gong!

Haiku Pop #3

morning stillness--
smoke rings bow away
from my lips

Haiku Pop #2

the cricket--
meditating with legs
crossed

Haiku Pop #1

dandelion seed--
trapped by a licked
stamp

Haiku of the Free #10

Rebuilding a mouse
by thumbing through owl pellets,
the modern haiku.

or,

fingering
small bones—
a loud crack

Haiku of the Free #9

Constellations through
the passing CP Rail cars,
holding hands ‘til dawn.

Haiku of the Free #8

Leaves rustling above,
a sensible rock accepts
the fidgeting roots.

Haiku of the Free #7

The caterpillar
eats a third hole in the leaf,
incense in my hand.

Haiku of the Free #6

As bead lightning spills
over the rim of the clouds,
a bird in the bath.

Haiku of the Free #5

The sound of crickets,
the burning leaves come to me
in tiny pieces.

Haiku of the Free #4

The lonely salesman
cuts across the old end zone,
barely feeling cold.

Haiku of the Free #3

The shaded sapling
and the wayward maple key,
a singular wind.

Haiku of the Free #2

Lost in a bean field,
the cricket and his puddle
contemplate my shoes.

* for Bronte Creek

Haiku of the Free #1

A mound of rich earth
is swallowed by the ravine,
sunlight through the roots.

* for Bonte Creek

It's a Lovely Day to Quit a Shit Job

Take
your
plucky
comb-over,
and
part
it;
you
paltry,
poached-
chicken
of
a
man.

Haiku From My Shit Job #15

The submerged loon
shakes his feet at the night air,
the moon is not full.

Haiku From My Shit Job #14

Underground pigeon,
a bobbing head leads toward
the escalator.

Haiku From My Shit Job #13

The red butterfly
is perfectly adapted,
like breath on the breeze.

Haiku From My Shit Job #12

Robin on the fence,
I grasp a Pure Land sutra
in the parking lot.

Haiku From My Shit Job #11

Replanting the bulbs,
a young crow watches the holes
as well as the worm.

Haiku From My Shit Job #10

Three budding daisies,
a dragonfly bends their stems
with suffering wings.

Haiku From My Shit Job #9

A dilapidated cart
in the irrigation ditch,
a wheel in the rain.

New Poems in Pax Americana

The forthcoming print edition of
Pax Americana
shall feature two
of my
poems:

The Inheritance and,
The Screech Owl.

Also, the forthcoming
online edition of
Pax Americana #9
shall feature three
of my
poems:

The Orange Kitchen;
A Poem for the Moon Festival,
and Wrecking Ball Cottage,

Hooray.

Haiku From My Shit Job #8

The July sunset
reflects in the orange tide,
I’m the inert one.

Haiku From My Shit Job #7

The patience of storm,
a robin’s egg contemplates
its place in the grass.

Haiku From My Shit Job #6

A cat swings her tail,
the soundless close of a door
through the heavy fog.

A Word Sonnet for the 8-Fold Path

Ryan
has
Some
of
the
Dharma,
and
no,
John
Sampas:
you
can’t
have
any.

Haiku From My Shit Job #5

Ephemeral rain,
droplets swell upon the fruit
as long as it dares.

Haiku From My Shit Job #4

Alone in his wings,
the gull finds nothing but air
and occupied nests.

A Little (Cover-Poem) Love

You are sidelong glances
in a hospital triage.

You are the wisp of ginger hair
tucked behind
the
nurse’s ear.

You are the burning sensation
in the nose,

and the open barbeque
in the
neighbourhood.

*

this poem is in response
to Ally Fleming's fantastic poem,
A Little Love

from her
blog

Hunky Dory.

Haiku From My Shit Job #3

Nothing is silent,
the pale cat behind our fence
eyes the morning moon.

Haiku From My Shit Job #2

Stray shoots of hemlock
bow in the wind like old souls,
green and overgrown.

Avroing My Arrow (Happy Canada Day)

No,
the title's less a
masturbatory metaphor
than an ill-fated
contraception metaphor:

Canada pulled out
way too early,
and hoped it would
all work out
for
the best.